


The Wing

by Maone



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Wing, Crowley's naps, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 15:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18479149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maone/pseuds/Maone
Summary: Crowley likes to sleep, Aziraphale gets ideas.





	The Wing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seraph5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraph5/gifts).



There was a faint snore.

Aziraphale raised his eyes from the book he was reading, to the demon sprawled on the sofa, his feet crossed on the angel’s lap as he napped. Crowley loved naps more than anyone Aziraphale had ever known, it didn’t matter where they were, as long as there was some comfortable surface, be it a bed, chair, sofa or Aziraphale, if he could lay on top of it, he’d sleep on it.

Aziraphale didn’t mind, not excessively, Crowley would sometimes twitch in his sleep, practically knocking Aziraphale’s book out of his hands, but otherwise he slept like the dead.

Which, Aziraphale observed, seemed to be the case this time. The angel watched his counterpart shift in his sleep, his feet trying to bury between Aziraphale’s thighs, seeking warmth. The angel quirked an amused eyebrow at that, but parted his leg ever so slightly for the intruding limbs.

Crowley made a pleased sound and went silent once again.

Then, Aziraphale was struck with a curious thought.

He manifested his wing, just the one and let it carefully unfurl, stretching it over the demon’s head, couple of loose feathers landed on top of the sleeping form, but Aziraphale brushed those away.

His wing hovered over Crowley’s head for a moment, before it slowly eased down, the very tip of the wing brushing over Crowley’s hair, the demon made a faint noise but otherwise didn’t stirr. Aziraphale smiled and guided his wing down from the top of Crowley’s head, to brush over his cheek. There was a forming frown on the sleeping demon’s face.

Now that got him more of a reaction.

He guided the wing just a little lower, feathers brushing over and under Crowley’s chin, the demon’s hand shot out to bat at the wing almost immediately and Aziraphale jerked the wing out of his reach before he could grab it.

The angel chuckled.

As soon as Crowley’s hand fell back to his side, Aziraphale lowered his wing once more, the limb now tucked besides the demon like an additional cushion and Crowley leaned against the soft surface and Aziraphale watched in surprise when the demon practically buried his face in the white feathers, humming pleasantly.

The angel’s surprise melted into adoring smile. He reopened his book, letting his wing remain as it was.


End file.
